


Office Number One

by AidanChase



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Mentorship, also catch some shade thrown at crimes of grindelwald, because its about his canon relationship with dumbledore, harry is an orphan in this fic, is that a commonly used tag? it should be, major dunking on dumbledore, not everyone lives compliant, this would not work in my au like at all, unprofessional therapy, when canon contradicts itself just have your characters address it in fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: Harry gets an invitation to tea with a very old wizard. They have a lot in common, it seems, specifically, they were both manipulated by the same man into facing the deadliest wizard of their era.This work contains minimal Crimes of Grindelwald spoilers.





	Office Number One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guess what I hated Crimes of Grindelwald. It was awful storytelling, bad screenwriting, poor character management, and contradicted its own established canon, so YAY! HOWEVER, despite how awful it was, it prompted this little nugget of fic that sat in my head for about a week, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> This work contains minimal Crimes of Grindelwald spoilers. Nothing major plot-related to the film, just stuff about Newt and Dumbledore.

He turned the invitation over curiously, but could find no hidden marks, no secret sigils, nothing to indicate this was a trick or a prank. It all seemed to be as it was:

To Harry James Potter

An Invitation to Tea

On the Twenty-Fifth of May, 3:30pm

Ministry of Magic, Fourth Floor, Office One

Harry did not need to consult the Ministry’s directory to know who had residence in Office One on the floor for Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures, but he could not understand why he, of all people, was being invited there.

Just to be sure, Harry pulled out a thick tome of magical law that he kept on hand for reference. He flicked through it until he found the ban on experimental creature breeding. He checked the handwriting of the law against the invitation. It certainly looked the same.

So he tucked the invitation into his coat and stepped out of his office. The floor was mostly empty, only the twins June and July Wellings were at work, pouring over an old case file. Other Aurors were out on assignment or taking care of paperwork elsewhere in the Ministry. The desks were certainly emptier these days, the worst of the war long done with.

June and July both stood from their desks as Harry approached. July even saluted, but his sister smacked his arm down. It was an improvement from their first month in the office.

“Need anything, sir?” June asked just as July asked, “Do you need anything, Mr. Potter?”

“I’d like for the two of you to stop with the ‘sirs’ and the ‘misters’, please.” He smiled at them, hoping they didn’t feel like he was scolding them. They were good recruits, eager to please, but sometimes too eager. Harry wished Ron were still here. Ron had always been better at helping the new recruits feel at home and comfortable in the new job.

“Right,” said July, “just Potter.”

June shook her head. “I can’t do that, sir.”

“Well, do your best. Anyway, I’m on my way to take tea down on the fourth floor. If there’s an emergency, send a memo. Otherwise, you’re holding down the office until Savage gets back.”

Their eyes went wide, but Harry didn’t wait for them to protest. Shoving a bit of extra duty onto the rookies would do them some good. He left them gaping, ignored the chorus of, “But sir —” that followed behind him, and headed for the lift.

He passed the Muggle Liaison office and almost knocked to say a passing hello, but he changed his mind. He really wasn’t as close with the pair of wizards who worked there as he had been with Arthur Weasley. Mr. Weasley had retired almost two years ago, not long after Ron had quit working as an Auror. The second floor had quickly become a lot lonelier for Harry.

The lift bell dinged and Harry’s brief loneliness was dashed at the sight of a familiar face behind the golden gate.

“Hermione!”

“Oh — Harry!” She pulled the gate aside and hugged him.

“How are you?”

“I’m quite well,” she smiled and made room for him on the lift. “How have you been?”

“Excellent. Ginny’s home this season. She’s a bit restless about it, but James keeps her busy. Where are you off to? I don’t see you come down much.”

“On my way down to talk to Kraemer in the Department of Mysteries. He’s fussed about some budget numbers. He just needs someone to tell him it will all be alright.”

“Don’t you have a secretary for that yet?”

“I’ll have a secretary someday. I’m not Minister for Magic yet,” she laughed. “What about you? Where are you headed? Auror emergency?”

“No, just tea.” Harry showed her the invitation.

“Oh — my. Office One, incredible. I wonder what he wants. He’s positively impossible to meet with, hardly ever even in the office. I had to spend days waiting outside his door to get his help rewriting the Werewolf Registration laws. What on earth could he want to talk to you about?”

Harry feigned offense. “I’m a very important person, Hermione. Loads of people want to talk to me.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Hermione handed the invitation back to him as the lift dinged for the fourth floor. “Well. Best of luck. Let me know what he says.”

“Thanks.” Harry exited the lift, but turned back. “Will you and Ron be at dinner on Sunday? Mrs. Weasley’s asked Ginny and I to bring Teddy ‘round for once.”

“We’re planning on it. Arthur’s been begging Ron and I for ultrasound photos. I’m not sure if it’s the baby or the technology that fascinates him more.” She laughed, and her hand casually dropped to her stomach. She looked to Harry as she always did, but he knew that wouldn’t last much longer.

Harry laughed. “Well, we’ll see you then.”

The lift closed and continued its descent, cutting of his conversation with Hermione.

Harry headed onto the floor for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and paused as the hall immediately split into three paths, each marked by their division— one for Beasts, one for Beings, and one for Spirits — but none with any numbers to indicate where the offices might begin their numbering. Harry double-checked the invitation. It gave no indication which way Harry should go, but he had a feeling he’d have his best luck in the hallway labeled “Beasts.”

Harry headed past several offices, many doors decorated in postcards and photographs from exotic locations. It seemed travel was an important part of this office’s culture. Harry suspected few of the people in this department enjoyed being in their office, and he was unsurprised to find it so empty and quiet.

Harry checked numbers and names as he passed. A few names were familiar, from cases Harry had worked that had gotten hairier than he’d anticipated, but unless he was pursuing a dark wizard with a dangerous pet, he had little need to interact with this department, which only made these tea summons all the more curious.

At the very end of the hallway, Harry reached his goal. The door was marked with a silver “1” emblazoned beneath a frosted window. The nameplate read “Newton Artemus Fido Scamander” and beneath it read, “Order of Merlin Second Class.” There were no postcards, no travel photographs pasted on this door. It seemed professional at first, then Harry noticed a layer of dust near the hinges. He didn’t think it was because the house-elves were poor cleaners; he guessed it was rather that this office was hardly ever used, hardly moved in and out of.

Harry knocked and wondered if anyone was even here.

But after he knocked, he heard movement from within. There was shuffling of papers and feet before the door opened and Harry was greeted by an elderly wizard. His white hair was long and messy, but he was clean shaven, and his turquoise robes neat. He even wore a bowtie, albeit crookedly. He squinted down at Harry, then smiled and stepped aside.

“Come in, Mr. Potter, come in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

The elderly wizard chuckled as he closed the door behind Harry. “Please. Mr. Scamander is my brother. Call me Newt.”

“Only if you’ll call me Harry.”

“Well! I’d be delighted to. Please, take a seat, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes roamed the office and realized it was unlike any office he had ever seen. Plants climbed up the walls and spilled out of pots in every available space. The room was not only filled with lush green, but it was warm and a bit humid from all the flora. There was no desk to be found. A bookshelf, filled with as many books, trinkets, and file reports as it could manage seemed to be the only thing that one might find in a proper office. The seat that Newt Scamander had gestured Harry towards was an armchair, positioned across from another armchair and a couch.

Harry took one armchair and Newt took the other.

“I really am quite glad you received my note,” Newt said, eyes on the teapot as he poured. “I’ve never been good with formalities, but my wife insists, you know. She has a head for those things. Wasn’t sure you’d arrive, honestly. I realize the notice was a bit short.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Harry reached for the cup of tea Newt handed him and was surprised by the way Newt kept his eyes on the tea cup or his hands. Harry was so used to people staring at his scar. “Honestly, Mr. Scama — er, Newt, you’re a legend. It’s an honor to be invited here for tea.”

Newt laughed. “You’re a bit of a legend yourself, Harry. The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, the one who defeated the Dark Lord as a baby and as a man?”

“Certainly not as many times as you faced Grindelwald.”

Newt sipped at his tea. “Let’s see…. It’s been so long. It was… five times, I believe.”

It was strange to talk to someone like this, to talk about Voldemort and the Wizarding War so easily. There was no awe or praise in Newt’s voice. It was almost like talking with Ron or Hermione, like talking with someone who had been through some of what Harry had been through — except if Ron was about a hundred years older. 

Harry said, “I think my count runs at about seven, if I’m being honest.”

“That must be why you’ve got Order of Merlin, First Class, eh?”

“I suppose so.” Harry grinned. 

Newt’s eyes were still on the cup in Harry’s hands as his face grew somber and he set his teacup down on his saucer. “Actually, Harry, it was exactly that that brought me to invite you over for tea.”

“My Order of Merlin?”

“No, certainly not. Who sets any stock by Ministry handouts? Honestly. In my day you had to earn the Order of Merlin. These last two wars they were handed out like candy. It’s as if everyone who died gets an Order.”

“Er —”

“Sorry, Harry, I’m being rather rude. I don’t mean to disparage your accomplishments nor your friends and family. It’s only that I never did much like the Ministry. Ended up here more by accident or perhaps fate than anything else. And you, if memory serves, had your own disagreements with the Ministry.”

“Yes, but that’s well past. Shacklebolt’s proving to be an excellent Minister. I always admired him as an Auror.”

“Yes, an excellent war hero to lead us out of the dark age into a new age of tolerance. He seems quite fine. But order and rank and accolades are not what I wished to speak with you about, Harry. I was more curious… well… about your relationship with Albus Dumbledore.” As Newt spoke Dumbledore’s name, his eyes flicked over Harry. He did not seem interested in maintaining eye contact, but he was gauging Harry’s reaction.

Harry, for his part, was unsure how to react. It was not often people brought up Dumbledore to him. If they did it was in passing, praising Dumbledore as a great leader or teacher and Harry would politely echo their praises. Dumbledore’s death had been nearly a decade ago. Time certainly didn’t heal all wounds, but it helped with managing them.

“Pardon me if I’m speaking out of turn — and perhaps I am quite off base — but my experiences with Dumbledore were rather unique. Or at least, I had always considered them to be. I would certainly never call myself Dumbledore’s confidant or even right hand man, but… perhaps his arm would have been appropriate. You see, after I left Hogwarts, Dumbledore used me in the fight against Grindelwald. He sent me to America and Paris and all over the world, really, in an effort to stop that madman in his tracks. He didn’t always tell me what I was doing in these places, but he told me enough to put me where he wanted me to be, whether it was what I wanted or not. So when I saw your name in the papers alongside Dumbledore’s years ago — what was it, ‘95? Over ten years now? — I wrote him a letter that may have been harsher than he anticipated. I warned him that you were a student, you were underage, and if he needed someone to fight Voldemort that I was well and ready to do so. His reply was jovial enough, questioning my dueling abilities in my old age — though I was still far younger than him — and I took it to mean that I had overreacted. The _Daily Prophet_ couldn’t well be trusted in those days, so I stopped paying attention. Then, I spent most of the war traveling the continent on field exercises. In fact, to be quite honest, Harry, I’d rather forgotten about you until last week, when your name floated across my desk in connection with a man breeding Herebridians in abandoned Underground tunnels. I’m grateful you dispatched him and got the dragons into the right hands without hurting them, naturally, but I also remembered my failure to follow up with Dumbledore, and the second war that ensued, and I suppose I’m only checking in that you’re alright. That sounds silly, almost ten years since he’s passed, but I know that uncared for wounds can linger. And, again, if I am out of place, please tell me and we can have a pleasant tea — Honestly, I would much prefer a conversation about those Herebridians you rescued.”

Harry, though Newt’s rather long speech had given him plenty of time to think, took a sip of his tea to stall further. It was clear to him that Newt was trying to connect those past battles with Grindelwald to Harry’s past battles with Voldemort. He supposed, in some respect, there were similarities. Harry was not certain, however, that any prophecies had been laid over Newt Scamander that insisted he would fight Voldemort. He was not certain that Grindelwald had made any vows of vengeance against Newt, had marked him, had transferred powers, had hunted him relentlessly….

Perhaps Grindelwald had developed a rivalry against Newt, if Dumbledore had used him as frequently as he implied. Perhaps Dumbledore had even asked Newt to die.

“I’m not quite certain what you’re asking,” Harry finally said. “I was rather close with Dumbledore, closer than other Professors, at least. He knew I didn’t have parents to look out for me, and I’m sure he was interested in me for my connection to Voldemort. He did tutor me especially to fight Voldemort….”

“Dumbledore was always an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Harry frowned. “I thought he taught Transfiguration? I remember Professor McGonagall mentioning something about him tutoring her when she was set to become an Animagus.”

“Professor McGonagall? No — she was my Transfiguration teacher, actually.”

“Oh — Well, then McGonagall is much older than I thought.”

Newt laughed, and for a moment, Harry thought their conversation would slip easily into comfortable, casual chatter. Perhaps Newt would ask about the Herebridians again, and the topic of Dumbledore would be stored away. But Newt’s face sombered and his eyes focused on something near Harry’s knee.

“I was kicked out of Hogwarts not far into my sixth year. Wizards had our own role to play in the Muggle war at the time, and I helped out in the east. Dumbledore had liked me as a student, and after the war, as Grindelwald was rising to power, sent me to America. He told me it was to transport a Thunderbird — which I did — but, without telling me, he fully expected me to find and uncover Grindelwald and the Obscurus Grindelwald was hunting. I’m not sure if you're familiar with an Obscurus….”

“Tangentially. I think it was covered in an Auror training manual somewhere.”

“Ah. Theseus wrote those. I’m not sure how detailed he was, to be honest. Well, an Obscurus is created when a young witch or wizard suppresses their magical abilities, usually out of fear, and it creates a dark matter, a dangerous energy that — Sorry, I suppose it isn’t exactly important right now. If I don’t half-bang on about something once I get going…. What I am trying to get at, Harry, is that Dumbledore was quite good at moving chess pieces, and I remember being one of his… knights… yes, I believe knights is most accurate…. I wanted you to know that if you needed to speak with anyone, my door is open to you.”

Harry again used his tea to stall. He wondered if Dumbledore would have considered Harry important enough to be a piece like a bishop, or if he had always been little more than a pawn in Dumbledore’s plan.

“I appreciate your openness and honesty, Newt,” Harry said. “It’s kind of you to think of me and to worry about me. I don’t think it was quite the same with….” But the lie died on Harry’s tongue. How could he return Newt’s vulnerability with such dishonesty? Harry shook his head. “Sorry — no, you’re absolutely right. You know, actually, when I was eleven I kept the Philosopher’s Stone out of Voldemort’s hands? I’d always had this strange feeling that Dumbledore wanted me to find the Stone, that he wanted me to face Voldemort. I mean… I was eleven! I burned my professor’s face off with my bare hands at the age of eleven and defeated one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and Dumbledore orchestrated it. So — yeah, I guess you had a good instinct about Dumbledore.”

“People don’t trust their instincts enough.” Newt poured himself another cup of tea and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. “Beasts don’t generally stop and think. I’ll grant you the magical world has more exceptions to this rule than the Muggle world, but on the whole, a Beast is classified as it is because it cannot reason. It only knows what its senses tell it, and it trusts those senses and acts accordingly. I have tried, in many ways, to live my life in a way that is like that. I listen, watch, smell and even taste. Then I act on what I believe I’ve learned. I apologize for failing to act in your case.”

“You shouldn’t apologize. I wasn’t your responsibility — I wasn’t really anyone’s.”

Newt shook his head. “No, Harry, and that is what makes it all the more tragic. I should have paid closer attention to Dumbledore. I knew what he was like, and I knew you were an orphan who would have little choice but to trust him.” Newt’s eyes were no longer focused on some inconsequential feature of Harry, but instead seemed distant. They were looking far beyond Harry, at something in the past. “There were times I tried to stay out of the fight and the consequences were… high. The sacrifices made to defeat Grindelwald might have been lessened if I had done more. I should not have let you become one of those sacrifices by failing to act.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. His duel with Voldemort had revealed some of it to those who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts: Harry had gone to the forest, prepared to die, and Voldemort had tried and failed to kill him. But he had never told anyone — not Ron, not Hermione, not even Ginny — that Dumbledore was the one who had sent him to die, the one who had known for years that Harry harbored a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him and could not live if Voldemort was to be defeated.

“I’m still here.”

“You were a pawn Dumbledore sent behind enemy lines and made into his queen, and if one wants to win at chess, he must always be willing to sacrifice his queen. I knew Dumbledore. I know what he asked of his followers, the sort of loyalty he demanded.”

Harry set his teacup down on the table. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Voldemort marked me long before Dumbledore knew me. I suppose it was inevitable, really.”

“It does not change the fact that you were a child that Dumbledore raised for war.”

Harry laughed humorlessly and ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. He stared at a photograph on the wall, of a wide desert with tall red rocks. He wondered vaguely where the photo had been taken and why it was empty, but he didn’t ask, and the thought didn’t last. What was the phrase Snape had used in that memory? _...like a pig for slaughter…._ Newt was not far off the mark. 

Finally, Harry said, “My son James is almost two now, and my wife and I are expecting another kid shortly. I… I’ve thought a lot about how I was raised, and the sort of father I want to be for my children. My uncle was horrible to me, and I vowed never to lose my temper on my son. My godfather took risks he shouldn’t have, and I vowed to always be there for my son. But Dumbledore… he was kind, patient, and listened. The things I want to be for my son are things I learned from him. He raised me to die in a war, you’re absolutely right, but he also raised me to be the sort of man my father was, or at least the man I believe he was. Someone brave, who will do the right thing, even when it’s hard or terrifying, and I hope that’s the same kind of man I can raise my son to be.”

Newt was quiet for a long minute. The only sound in the office was the gentle drip of an irrigator somewhere in the network of plants surrounding them. 

In a soft voice, Newt said, “You’re a very forgiving man, Harry. I won’t try to convince you to be angry with Dumbledore, but know that if you had been my son, I would have been furious with Dumbledore for what he did.”

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. I am angry — I do still feel angry sometimes. I get angry with Dumbledore, with my aunt and my uncle…. Sometimes I even get angry with my parents for abandoning me, even though I know that’s foolish. And I know that if my son were in my place I would be furious with Dumbledore. I don’t know that I could forgive him. But I also know that I can’t hold onto that anger. I know that bitterness won’t save anyone, and I have no desire to pass that bitterness on to my son.”

A smile crawled across Newt’s face. He hid it in a last sip of tea. “I was presumptuous inviting you here today. I had hoped I might be able to offer you words of wisdom, but it seems you’re the one advising me.”

“I’m sorry if I spoke out of place —”

“No one is ever too old to learn from the young. I’m grateful for this conversation. Truly. I’d like to have tea with you again soon, Harry.” He set his empty cup down on the tea table. “Perhaps next time we could actually talk about those Herebridians.”

“Are you quite fond of dragons?”

“Oh, yes. I worked with them in Ukraine during the war. Marvelous beasts. Astounding, regal, and powerful.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin. There weren’t many people in the world that could speak so highly of dragons, and Harry just happened to get on well with those sorts of people. “I’d be honored to come again to talk about dragons, or anything you’d like.” Harry stood, and Newt did the same.

“Perhaps your office, next week?”

“Oh, I’m sure the new recruits would die of shock if you came up to the office. Please, I’d love to see their faces.”

“It’s settled then. Thank you, again, for meeting with me today.”

“You’re more than welcome. I look forward to next week.”

And as they said their goodbyes, and Harry stepped out of the warm office into the cool hallway, he couldn’t help but think that something inside of him felt just a little bit lighter.


End file.
